


even though we didn't deserve it

by likewinning



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman Beyond, Batman Beyond 2.0 (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Comment Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2018-04-03 02:41:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4083571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likewinning/pseuds/likewinning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's no such thing as forgiveness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	even though we didn't deserve it

They don’t talk much. Dick used to be a talker, used to talk Bruce’s damn _ear_ off, about everything in the world. Used to, when he was sixteen and the sun revolved around Batman, around _Bruce_ , and then –

Nothing was ever the same after he left.

Nothing’s been the same in decades, their conversations turned stilted and businesslike, anything otherwise turning into a fight. He still remembers the last time they _fought_ , Bruce’s blood all over his knuckles, Bruce pulling him in for a tight hug afterward.

Even then, he would’ve done anything for Bruce. He’s not so sure he could say that now.

When Terry gets hurt, Bruce comes to see him. Dick’s been expecting it for days. The kid’s all right – a broken leg and a broken rib, nothing that time won’t heal, but it happened while he was protecting Bruce, and Dick knows that kind of thing eats Bruce up. Didn’t matter how many times Bruce brought Dick out with him, didn’t matter how hard Bruce pushed him to be _better_ \- if something happened, he’d always –

“How is he?” Bruce asks. Dick offers him a seat, but Bruce stays standing. He looks like he’s barely slept in days, and sometimes Dick still doesn’t know how Bruce is still breathing.

(Doesn’t know, with so many years to prepare, how he’ll handle it when he finally isn’t.)

“He’s fine,” Dick says. “He was ready to get back into the suit yesterday, but I told him I’d break his other leg if he tried.”

Bruce’s mouth twitches. “I would’ve said the same to you,” he says.

“I know,” Dick says.

“Not that you ever listened,” Bruce says.

“Bruce…” Dick leans against the back of the couch. The place is a mess, he knows, beer bottles and spare parts and half a dozen books that his students give him that he never reads. Alfred would have a conniption at the dust alone.

“I only wanted to see how you were doing,” Bruce says.

“The phone also works,” Dick says. It’s not nice, he knows, but then –

“Would you have answered if I’d called?” Bruce asks.

_Yes._ “No.”

“Dick,” Bruce says, and the way he says it, Dick can feel it pulling at his chest like some invisible string. Jason always had him pegged - _he beckons, and you come, man, no matter how many times he beats you._

“How long are you going to be angry with me?” Bruce asks.

“I don’t know,” Dick says. “How long do you think I should be?” Bruce flinches, and Dick steps forward, can’t help it. Bruce is so old – they’re _both_ so old, and Dick knows the bitterness is going to kill him one of these days.

“I’m not angry with you, Bruce," Dick says. Even now, standing this close, he has to look up at him. He remembers being seventeen, eighteen, still hoping he’d outgrow Bruce – literally and figuratively.

He never really has.

“I’m just,” Dick says. “I’m just tired, Bruce.”

“Yes,” Bruce says. He reaches for Dick’s shoulder, then stops. The last time – the last time –

Bruce used to feel so huge next to him, like he could drown Dick in his arms. He remembers the smell of him, Kevlar and aftershave and sweat, coffee on his breath. Dick takes Bruce’s hand, brings it up to his face. Bruce’s hands are still callused, still strong after all these years, and Dick remembers how badly he wanted Bruce to just –

"I'm not asking you to forgive me, Dick," Bruce says. "Out of everyone, you have the least reason to do that."

Dick doesn't say anything. His chest hurts, and his mouth itches to tell Bruce that it's fine, it's all right – some fifty-year instinct to have Bruce's back.

"Just do me a favor," Dick says. "Don't screw it up beyond repair with this one, okay?"

"I'm trying," Bruce says, and the fucked up thing is how badly Dick wants to believe him. He locks the door behind Bruce when he leaves, and he still feels Bruce's hand on him for hours afterward.


End file.
